VKiv^/' 

II  I. 


i 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


MUSKRAT  CITY 


By 
HENRY  ABBOTT 


NEW  YORK 
1922 


Copyright   1922 

by 

HENEY   ABBOTT 


MUSKRAT  CITY 

«  C^c^*" 

THE  Irish  cook  one  day  proposed  to 
the  ship's  captain  the  following 
conundrum :  "Is  anny  thin'  lost  whin  yeez 
know  where  'tis  ?"  The  Captain  assured 
him  that  in  such  case  the  thing  was  not 
lost.  And  Dennis  responded:  "Well, 
thin,  shure,  the  ta-kettle  is  safe,  for  'tis 
in  the  bottom  av  the  ocean." 

Bige  and  I  thought  we  were  lost.  We 
did  not  know  the  way  to  our  destination. 
We  did  not  know  the  way  back  home. 
But  realizing  that  we  were  in  the  heart 
of  the  trackless  forest,  we  knew  we  were 
perfectly  safe. 

We  had  eaten  an  early  breakfast  that 
morning  at  the  "Dan'l  Boone  Camp." 
We  had  made  sandwiches  for  lunch, 
wrapped  them  in  paper,  tied  the  pack- 
ages on  the  sides  of  our  fish  baskets,  and 
had  started  for  Plum  Pond,  where  we 
expected  to  do  some  fishing. 

We  had  been  walking  five  hours  and 
had  not  yet  reached  Plum  Pond.  In- 

3 


deed,  we  felt  quite  sure  we  had  passed  it, 
either  on  the  right  or  on  the  left.  Also, 
it  was  possible  that  we  had  been,  for  the 
last  hour,  going  northwest  instead  of 
southwest.  It  was  raining  and  we  had 
not  consulted  the  compass  very  often.  It 
had  been  raining  for  the  past  three  hours, 
and  now  the  water  was  falling  in  a  flood, 
and  we  were  soaked  to  the  skin.  Our 
shoes  were  rilled  with  water  and  as  we 
plodded  on  it  sloshed,  sloshed,  with  every 
step.  We  were  bewildered,  but  it  would 
do  no  good  to  stop,  or  turn  back,  so  we 
continued  to  push  on. 

Presently,  as  we  passed  over  a  ridge 
and  climbed  down  the  steep  hillside,  we 
saw  a  cleared  place  in  the  bottom  of  the 
valley.  Bige  exclaimed,  "Gosh!!  Well 
I'll  be  doggoned !  If  that  ain't  Muskrat 
City."  The  map  makers  had  not  discov- 
ered the  place,  and  Bige  had  never  heard 
of  it,  yet  the  instant  he  saw  it  he  knew 
its  name  was  Muskrat  City,  and  it  shall 
so  remain  unless  an  act  of  legislature 
changes  it. 

4 


At  the  bottom  of  a  deep  valley,  with 
steep  hills  on  either  side,  in  the  center  of 
a  beaver  meadow  was  a  collection  of  a 
score  or  more  of  conical  shaped  mud 
huts,  about  two  and  a  half  feet  high  and 
three  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base.  In 
each  of  these  huts  there  lived  a  male 
muskrat,  his  wife  and  family  of  seven 
to  nine  children.  There  also  were  nu- 
merous bachelor  muskrats,  who  lived  by 
themselves  in  holes  in  the  bank. 

Lest  some  of  our  readers  may  not  be 
acquainted  with  a  "beaver  meadow,"  let 
us  explain  that  at  some  period  of  time, 
long  ago,  possibly  two  hundred  or  maybe 
five  hundred  years  ago,  beavers  lived 
here  and  built  a  dam  across  the  brook 
as  all  beavers  do.  The  dam  backed  the 
waters  of  the  brook  up  and  flooded  the 
floor  of  the  valley,  thus  drowning  all  the 
trees  which  were  not  cut  and  peeled  by 
the  beavers.  These  trees,  of  course,  fell 
and  decayed,  so  that  not  even  stumps  or 
roots  were  left.  In  the  course  of  time 
the  beavers  either  were  exterminated  by 

5 


trappers  or  they  had  exhausted  their  food 
supply  in  that  valley  and  then  emigrated 
to  some  other  stream.  In  the  absence  of 
the  builders,  who  must  constantly  make 
repairs,  the  dam  had  broken  and  the 
brush  it  contained  had  decayed.  Only 
the  stones  and  dirt  used  in  its  construc- 
tion remained  to  mark  the  spot  where  it 
had  once  held  back  a  beaver  pond  cover- 
ing several  acres.  This  space  had  re- 
mained swampy  for  some  years  and  trees 
did  not  grow  upon  it.  It  was  now  cov- 
ered with  a  rank  growth  of  grass. 

Many  such  places  are  found  in  the 
forest  and  they  are  always  known  as 
beaver  meadows.  They  unquestionably 
mark  spots  where  colonies  of  beavers 
once  lived,  though  it  might  have  been 
many  years  before. 

The  far-sighted,  fore-handed  pioneers 
who  settled  in  the  state  of  Iowa,  with 
prophetic  wisdom  and  civic  pride  of  hope, 
loaded  the  labels  of  their  communities 
with  the  word  "City."  After  the  lapse 
of  eighty  years,  the  last  census  showed 

6 


twenty-three  "Cities"  in  that  state  having 
less  than  one  thousand  inhabitants  each. 
Of  these,  six  have  less  than  three  hun- 
dred each.  "Promise  City"  in  eighty 
years  has  acquired  two  hundred  and 
seventy-eight  inhabitants,  while  "Walnut 
City"  beats  the  record  with  thirty. 

We  then  did  not  know,  and  we  do  not 
now  know,  how  many  inhabitants  there 
were  in  Muskrat  City,  but  we  feel  confi- 
dent they  outnumbered  the  citizens  of 
some  of  the  Iowa  cities. 

By  the  time  we  had  reached  the  floor 
of  the  valley,  rain  ceased  to  fall  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  sun  was  shining.  We 
were  not  only  wet  but  we  now  realized 
that  we  were  hungry.  It  was  long  past 
our  usual  lunch  hour.  Fish  baskets  were 
unslung  from  our  backs  and  we  found 
our  sandwiches  had  been  reduced  by  the 
rain  to  a  mushy  mess  mixed  with  paper 
pulp.  Indeed,  a  substantial  part  of  our 
rations  had  been  converted  into  liquid 
form  and  distributed  along  our  route 
through  the  woods. 

7 


Without  wasting  time  in  vain  cussing 
or  discussing,  Bige  at  once  set  to  work 
building  a  fire  on  the  gravelly  beach  of 
the  brook.  This  was  one  of  those  occa- 
sions when  a  waterproof  match  box 
proved  useful.  But  one  should  also  know 
how  to  build  a  fire  in  the  woods  without 
matches.  Any  Boy  Scout  can  tell  you 
how  to  do  it. 

Nature  has  provided  curly  birch  bark 
for  kindling,  for  just  such  emergencies 
as  this,  and  it  is  usually  dry  on  the  lee- 
ward side  of  the  tree.  In  a  few  minutes 
a  roaring,  crackling  fire  was  going,  and 
our  clothing — as  much  of  it  as  native 
modesty  would  permit — was  hanging  on 
saplings  which  we  had  cut  and  stuck  in 
the  ground  about  the  fire. 

While  this  work  was  under  way  I 
strung  up  my  rod,  went  up  the  brook 
into  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  in  a  deep 
hole  caught  some  trout.  I  got  six  fine 
ones  in  about  twice  as  many  casts. 

Bige  dressed  the  fish  while  I  got  some 
striped  maple  leaves.  They  are  about  as 

8 


large  as  cabbage  leaves  but  thinner.  Each 
fish  was  wrapped  in  one  of  these  leaves 
which  was  tied  on  with  a  piece  of  string. 
The  packages  were  then  dipped  in  the 
brook  to  wet  the  leaves  and  were  buried 
in  hot  ashes  and  covered  with  live  coals. 
In  about  fifteen  minutes  we  pulled  our 
fish  out  of  the  fire.  The  wrappers  were 
charred  and  they  looked  like  burned 
sticks.  Breaking  them  open  we  found 
the  skin  of  the  fish  stuck  to  the  charred 
leaves  and  it  came  free  from  the  flesh, 
which  was  pink  and  steaming. 

For  preserving  the  delicious  flavor  of 
freshly  caught  trout,  this  is  the  best 
method  of  cooking  I  know  of.  A  thin 
inner  layer  of  green  birch  bark,  or  a 
piece  of  paper,  if  one  has  it,  will  do  for 
a  wrapper. 

Other  methods  of  cooking,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  the  usual  culinary  utensils,  are 
numerous.  One  we  have  practiced  as 
follows :  The  sharpened  end  of  a  slender 
green  sapling  is  stuck  through  a  fish's 
mouth  and  lengthwise  into  the  solid  part 

9 


of  its  body.  The  other  end  of  the  stick, 
which  should  be  three  feet  long,  is  pushed 
into  the  ground  and  the  stick  bent  so  as 
to  bring  the  fish  directly  over  a  bed  of 
live  coals — not  over  the  blaze.  By  this 
method  several  fish  can  be  broiled  at  the 
same  time.  On  other  occasions  we  have 
built  a  bigger  fire,  with  larger  sticks  of 
wood,  found  some  flat  stones  twelve  to 
fifteen  inches  across  which  we  put  in  the 
fire  and  when  they  were  quite  hot, 
dragged  them  out,  and  laid  our  fish  on 
the  stones  to  cook.  This  also  is  an  ex- 
cellent way  to  cook  bacon  and  we  some- 
times employ  it  even  when  a  frying  pan 
is  handy.  Of  course,  we  washed  the 
stones  in  the  brook  before  they  were  put 
into  the  fire.  But  then,  one  can  be  quite 
sure  that  the  fire  will  kill  any  stray 
microbe  that  the  stone  might  harbor. 

Freshly  peeled  birch  bark  makes  excel- 
lent plates  on  which  to  serve  primitive 
meals  such  as  described. 

Luncheon  finished,  and  our  clothes 
dry,  we  discussed  our  next  move.  Since 

10 


no  one  was  left  at  DanTs  who  might 
worry  over  our  absence,  we  decided  to 
remain  at  Muskrat  City  over  night,  then 
make  an  early  morning  start  toward  the 
beginning  of  a  trail  to  civilization. 

In  carrying  out  this  program  the  first 
step  was  to  prepare  a  shelter  and  a  bed. 
The  lack  of  an  axe  was  a  handicap,  but 
our  large  pocket  knives  were  made  to 
serve.  About  ten  feet  from  our  fireplace 
lay  the  moss-covered  body  of  a  pine  tree 
that  had  fallen  out  across  the  meadow, 
possibly  fifty  or  seventy-five  years  ago. 
We  cut  two  saplings  and  drove  them  into 
the  ground  seven  feet  from  the  log  and 
five  feet  apart,  leaving  a  fork  on  each  of 
these  posts  five  feet  above  the  ground. 
A  pole  was  laid  across  in  the  two  forks, 
and  other  poles  were  laid  sloping  from 
this  to  the  log.  Then  we  peeled  yellow 
birch  bark  to  cover  the  roof  and  an- 
chored the  bark  with  heavy  sticks  above 
it.  Brush  piled  against  the  two  sides 
formed  sufficient  protection  from  the 
wind  and  the  front  was  open  toward  the 

11 


fire.  Balsam  boughs  were  gathered  for 
the  bed  and  some  firewood  collected; 
then  we  went  down  stream  to  fish  and 
explore. 

During  the  past  twenty-five  years  Bige 
and  I  have  built  many  similar  one-night 
shelters,  in  widely  separated  parts  of  the 
forest.  We  have  slept  under  them  with 
comfort  when  it  rained.  We  have,  on 
occasion,  found  white  frost  on  the 
ground  in  the  morning.  The  forest  fur- 
nishes, free  at  hand,  the  materials  re- 
quired, and  the  labor  involved  is  only  an 
element  of  the  pleasure  of  forest  explora- 
tion. 

Half  a  mile  down  the  brook  we  found 
it  emptied  into  a  larger  stream,  where 
we  soon  filled  a  basket  with  trout.  Also 
we  picked  a  hatful  of  raspberries.  We 
returned  to  the  city  in  time  for  an  early 
supper  and  as  we  had  no  dishes  to  wash 
we  had  ample  time  to  discuss  our  prob- 
able location  and  the  most  promising 
course  to  pursue  in  the  morning. 

The  chief  charm  of  exploration  lies  in 

12 


the  uncertainty  of  always  finding  what 
one  starts  out  to  find,  and  in  the  equal 
certainty  that  one  may  find  something 
else,  possibly  even  more  interesting  or 
more  valuable  than  what  was  on  the  pro- 
gram. 

Columbus  failed  to  discover  a  western 
route  to  India,  but  he  found  something 
else,  and  got  himself  put  into  history  and 
his  bust  in  the  hall  of  fame. 

Bige  and  I  failed  to  reach  Plum  Pond, 
but  we  found  a  better  thing.  The  fishing 
in  our  two  brooks  was  all  that  could  be 
desired.  There  were  evidences  that  the 
hunting  would  be  good  in  this  "neck  of 
the  woods,"  when  the  hunting  season 
should  open,  and  it  was  unlikely  that  any 
other  hunters  would  penetrate  to  this  re- 
mote section.  Bige  saw  great  possibili- 
ties in  the  fur  crop  when  the  hunting 
should  be  over,  and  trapping  begin. 

So,  though  we  were  hopelessly  lost  (?) 
in  "an  impenetrable  forest,"  we  slept 
comfortably,  and  peacefully,  crawling  out 
of  our  nest  only  occasionally  when  the 

13 


fire  required  another  stick  of  wood. 
Only  on  such  occasions  did  we  see  or 
hear  the  permanent  residents  of  Muskrat 
City.  As  the  fire  was  kicked  together 
and  a  fresh  stick  thrown  upon  it,  causing 
a  shower  of  sparks  to  shoot  upward, 
then  would  be  heard  a  rapid  succession 
of  splashes  as  fifteen  or  twenty  rats 
would  plunge  into  the  brook  and  scurry 
to  their  hiding  places.  Otherwise,  they 
silently  went  about  their  business. 

About  seven  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning,  we  climbed  the  ridge  over 
which  we  had  come  into  Muskrat  City, 
and  taking  careful  note  of  landmarks,  we 
proceeded  in  a  general  eastward  direc- 
tion. One  can  usually  see  but  a  short 
distance  in  an  unlumbered  forest.  After 
two  hours  of  slow  and  difficult  travel  we 
climbed  a  high  and  steep  hill.  When  we 
neared  the  top  we  noted  a  rocky  ledge  on 
the  summit.  Scrambling  to  the  top  of 
this,  we  had  an  unobstructed  and  ex- 
tended view  over  valleys  and  foothills, 

14 


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o 
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and  saw  mountain  peaks  in  every  direc- 
tion. 

A  long  distance  off  to  the  northeast 
loomed  up  the  highest  peak  of  all,  which 
from  its  height  and  its  two  rounded,  bare 
knobs,  we  knew  to  be  Owl's  Head  Moun- 
tain. We  also  knew  that  it  was  but  two 
miles  from  the  top  of  Owl's  Head  to  the 
Dan'l  Boone  Camp.  We  trained  the  com- 
pass on  that  peak  and  took  a  fresh  start 
toward  home.  For  many  years  Bige  and 
I  had  hunted  partridge  and  deer  on  every 
side  of  this  mountain  and  over  its  foot- 
hills. On  many  occasions,  also,  we  had 
been  on  its  bald  summit.  So  now,  on  re- 
turning to  its  shadow,  we  should  be  on 
familiar  ground. 

Jim  Flynn  now  lives  on  Owl's  Head 
Mountain,  from  the  time  the  snow  has 
melted  in  the  woods  in  late  spring  until 
the  snow  begins  to  fall  again  in  the  au- 
tumn. Jim  is  employed  by  the  State 
Conservation  Commission  to  watch  out 
for  fires  in  the  forests.  When  Jim  dis- 
covers the  beginning  of  a  fire  anywhere 

16 


Jim  Flynn 


in  the  range  of  his  outlook,  the  fact  and 
location  is  reported  by  telephone  to  the 
chief  at  fire  headquarters,  when  men  with 
tools  are  dispatched  from  the  nearest  set- 
tlement to  put  out  the  fire  before  it  gets 
beyond  control.  This  service  was  estab- 
lished in  1909  with  lookout  stations  on 
the  tops  of  all  the  high  peaks  in  the 
Adirondack  range.  Since  that  date  there 
have  been  no  disastrous  forest  fires  in 
that  region. 

Jim  lives  in  a  log  cabin  which  he  built 
just  below  the  rocky  ledge  which  covers 
the  summit.  On  the  high  point  a  steel 
tower  thirty-five  feet  high  carries  his  look- 
out station  above  the  tree  tops.  This  is  a 
rather  lonely  spot  in  which  to  live  half 
the  year.  On  rainy  days,  when  there  is 
little  danger  of  a  fire  making  headway, 
Jim  is  permitted  to  visit  his  family  at 
the  settlement  on  the  lake,  and  to  bring 
back  fresh  supplies. 

Jim  is  glad  to  have  visitors  call  upon 
him  at  his  mountain-top  resort,  and  to 
encourage  such  he  has  made  an  excellent 

18 


Jim  Flynn's  Cabin 


trail  to  the  nearest  point  on  Long  Lake, 
about  three  miles,  and  has  marked  it  with 
signs  to  point  the  way  up  the  mountain. 
Jim  will  lend  you  his  field-glass,  name 
the  points  of  interest  in  view,  make  cof- 
fee for  you,  if  you  bring  the  makings, 
and  discuss  with  you  the  latest  political 
questions,  philosophy  or  religion. 

In  a  book  entitled,  "The  Adirondack, 
or  Life  in  the  Woods,"  published  in  1849, 
J.  T.  Headley,  the  author,  writes  about 
his  visit  to  the  top  of  Owl's  Head  Moun- 
tain, with  his  guide,  Mitchell  Sabattis,  an 
Indian,  and  the  first  settler  on  Long 
Lake.  Headley  says  that  in  returning 
they  "lost  their  way  and  were  fourteen 
hours  without  food."  He  describes  the 
view  from  the  top  of  Owl's  Head  as  fol- 
lows : 

"It  looks  off  on  a  prospect  that 
would  make  your  heart  stand  still  in 
your  bosom.  Look  away  toward  that 
distant  horizon !  In  its  broad  sweep 
round  the  heavens,  it  takes  in  nearly 
four  hundred  miles,  while  between 
20 


Jim  in  his  Look-out  Tower 


slumbers  an  ocean — but  it  is  an 
ocean  of  tree  tops.  Conceive,  if  you 
can,  this  vast  expanse  stretching  on 
and  spreading  away,  till  the  bright 
green  becomes  shaded  into  a  deep 
black,  with  not  a  sound  to  break  the 
solitude,  and  not  a  hand's  breadth 
of  land  in  view  throughout  the 
whole.  It  is  a  vast  forest-ocean, 
with  mountain  ridges  for  billows, 
rolling  smoothly  and  gently  on  like 
the  subsiding  swell  of  a  storm.  I 
stand  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice 
which  throws  its  naked  wall  far 
down  to  the  tops  of  the  fir  trees  be- 
low, and  look  off  on  this  surpassing 
wild  and  strange  spectacle.  The 
life  that  villages,  and  towns,  and 
cultivated  fields  give  to  a  landscape 
is  not  here,  neither  is  there  the  bar- 
renness and  savageness  of  the  view 
from  Tahawus.  It  is  all  vegetation 
— luxuriant,  gigantic  vegetation ;  but 
man  has  had  no  hand  in  it.  It 
stands  as  the  Almighty  made  it,  ma- 
22 


jestic  and  silent,  save  when  the 
wind  or  the  storm  breathes  on  it, 
waking  up  its  myriad  low-toned 
voices,  which  sing: 

The  wild  profound  eternal  bass 

In  nature's  anthem/ 
Oh,  how  still  and  solemn  it  slumbers 
below  me;  while  far  away  yonder, 
to  the  left,  shoots  up  into  the  heav- 
ens the  massive  peaks  of  the  Adiron- 
dack chain,  mellowed  here,  by  the 
distance,  into  beauty.  Yet  there  is 
one  relief  to  this  vast  forest  solitude 
—like  gems  sleeping  in  a  moss  bed, 
lakes  are  everywhere  glittering  in 
the  bright  sunshine.  How  calm  and 
trustingly  they  repose  on  the  bosom 
of  the  wilderness!  Thirty-six,  a 
hunter  tells  me,  can  be  counted  from 
this  summit,  though  I  do  not  see 
over  twenty.  *  *  *  Some  of 
these  are  from  four  to  six  miles  in 
width,  and  yet  they  look  like  mere 
pools  at  this  distance,  and  in  the 
midst  of  such  a  mass  of  green. 

23 


.s 

td 


o 
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§ 


WJ 

.S 

I 


I  have  gazed  on  many  mountain 
prospects  in  this  and  the  old  world, 
but  this  view  has  awakened  an  en- 
tirely new  class  of  emotions." 
As   Bige  and  I   descended  the  steep 
slope  from  our  lookout,  we  were  quickly 
buried  among  the  evergreens,  with  the 
only  extended  view  toward  the  blue  sky 
and  floating  clouds  above  the  tall  tree 
tops.    Having  in  mind  the  experience  of 
the  previous  day,  the  compass  was  fre- 
quently consulted,  but  travel  was  diffi- 
cult and  progress  slow. 

An  hour  later  we  came  upon  a  small 
log  cabin,  having  a  roof  of  spruce  bark, 
no  floor,  but  a  puncheon  door  and  one 
window.  In  one  corner  was  a  crude  fire- 
place made  of  stones,  having  two  lengths 
of  stove  pipe  which  passed  through  the 
window  for  a  chimney.  Opposite  the 
fireplace  was  a  balsam  bed  and  in  another 
corner  was  a  pile  of  spruce  gum.  There 
were  also  a  frying  pan,  tin  plate,  knife 
and  fork,  and  on  a  bark  shelf  some  food 
stuff.  We  left  the  shack  and  on  a  path 

25 


a  short  distance  from  it,  we  met  its  owner 
who  was  returning.  He  was  of  uncer- 
tain age,  but  with  white  hair  and  white 
scraggy  beard.  He  carried  a  bag  partly 
filled  with  gum  and  in  one  hand  a  long 
pole  having  a  small  shovel-shaped  piece 
of  steel  fastened  to  one  end.  This  imple- 
ment he  used  to  loosen  a  ball  of  gum 
that  was  too  high  on  the  tree  trunk  to  be 
otherwise  reached. 

The  man  proved  to  be  Sam  Lapham. 
Bige  knew  him  and  I  had  often  heard 
about  him.  Sam  spent  most  of  the  sum- 
mer collecting  spruce  gum,  which  he  was 
able  to  sell  for  a  good  price.  This  un- 
frequented part  of  the  forest  was  one  of 
his  camping  places  during  the  "gumming 
season."  The  sticky  juice  of  the  spruce 
tree  oozes  out  through  cracks  in  the 
wood,  and  collects  on  the  bark  where  it 
hangs  in  lumps  from  the  size  of  a  child's 
thumb  up  to  the  dimensions  of  a  hen's 
egg.  In  the  course  of  years  of  exposure 
to  the  air  this  pitchy  material  crystallizes, 
"ripens/7  and  becomes  spruce  gum.  On 

26 


•o 

s 

E 
j* 
T* 
O 

6 
o 


I 
I 


inquiry  we  learned  that  there  is  a  con- 
stant demand  for  spruce  gum,  but  an  in- 
sufficient supply  since  few  make  a  busi- 
ness of  collecting  it.  It  appears  that  a 
few  pounds  of  clarified  spruce  gum  and 
an  equal  quantity  of  "chicle"  from  South 
America  are  mixed  with  a  carload  of 
paraffine  wax  and  some  flavoring  extract, 
the  result  being  the  "chewing  gum"  of 
commerce  which  is  distributed  by  the 
one-cent  slot  machines,  and  furnishes 
exercise  for  the  jaw  muscles  of  the  rising 
generation.  It  has  been  estimated  that 
more  than  five  million  dollars  are  ex- 
pended for  chewing  gum  in  the  United 
States  every  year. 

It  also  is  possible  to  chew  pure  spruce 
gum,  just  as  it  is  broken  from  the  tree 
trunk.  I  have  tried  it.  In  this  operation 
one  must  "watch  his  step"  to  avoid  lock- 
jaw. At  least,  caution  must  be  exercised 
until  the  quid  is  well  "started."  I  under- 
stand that  in  some  places  it  is  possible, 
at  an  increased  cost,  to  buy  spruce  gum 
that  has  been  "started." 

28 


We  reached  DanTs  in  time  for  a  late 
luncheon  and  were  none  the  worse  for 
our  exploit.  While  we  were  on  our  look- 
out mountain  we  recognized  several  lakes 
and  ponds  and  learned  that  Plum  Pond 
was  a  long  way  from  Muskrat  City  and 
to  the  south  of  it.  Also,  while  there,  on 
a  piece  of  birch  bark  we  made  a  topo- 
graphical map  of  the  region  in  view  and 
laid  out  a  new  route  to  Muskrat  City. 
This  route  was  not  a  direct  bee-line.  It 
was  circuitous,  but  it  would  avoid  the 
swamps,  the  deep  valleys  and  the  steep 
ridges,  and  also  would  enter  the  city  fol- 
lowing up  along  the  brook. 

Having  gone  out  to  our  headquarters 
on  the  lake  for  fresh  supplies,  a  week 
later  we  made  another  trip  to  Muskrat 
City.  This  time  we  carried  a  small  tent, 
an  axe  and  food  to  last  a  week.  While 
there  we  built  a  log  lean-to  camp.  It  was 
placed  on  a  shelf,  or  narrow  level  space 
on  the  steep  hillside,  about  seventy  feet 
above  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  The 
shelf  was  just  wide  enough  for  our  build- 

29 


1 


o 
o 


I 

I 

1 

B 

09 

TJ 
o 


ing  and  the  fireplace  in  front.  There 
were  plenty  of  stones  on  the  ground  with 
which  we  built  the  fireplace.  We  chose 
this  elevation  for  our  building  site  be- 
cause it  would  be  above  the  fogs  that 
often  at  night  settle  in  the  bottom  of  a 
valley,  on  a  stream  or  pond. 

A  rill,  tumbling  down  the  steep  hill- 
side, draining  a  cold  spring  above,  passed 
within  thirty  yards  of  the  camp  and  sup- 
plied us  with  the  kind  of  drinking  water 
that,  in  the  city,  we  buy  for  thirty  cents 
a  quart.  This  is  a  commodity  that  Na- 
ture distributes  with  lavish  hand  through- 
out this  entire  mountain  region.  On 
every  hillside  may  be  found  one  or  more 
springs  of  pure  soft  water  having  a  tem- 
perature of  approximately  forty  degrees 
on  the  hottest  days  of  summer.  Here, 
the  rheumatic,  the  dispeptic,  the  diabetic, 
and  the  fellow  with  kidneys,  may  have 
the  poisons  washed  out  of  his  system ; 
while  the  balsamic  air  heals  the  rent  in 
his  breathing  machinery.  These  pro- 
cesses may  go  forward,  not  while  .he  sits 

31 


Inside  of  Camp  at  Muskrat  City 


on  a  hotel  porch  and  broods  over  his 
troubles,  but  while  he  camps,  explores, 
fishes,  hunts  and  forgets  his  disabilities. 

Bige  and  I  made  many  trips  to,  and 
spent  many  days  at,  Muskrat  City.  We 
explored  a  large  section  of  forest  country 
adjacent  thereto.  In  the  season,  we  fre- 
quently ate  broiled  partridge,  venison  and 
other  game,  while  a  few  minutes  of  fish- 
ing any  day  would  furnish  all  the  trout 
we  ever  cared  to  eat.  When  we  required 
a  variation  in  diet,  we  might  go  down 
stream  about  two  miles  to  a  pond  and 
catch  a  mess  of  bullheads  or  frogs. 

We  made  the  acquaintance  of  many 
fur-bearing  animals  who  lived  in  the 
neighborhood.  In  these  Bige  took  a  deep 
interest,  since  he  was  always  looking 
forward  to  the  winter  season,  when  he 
should  extend  his  old  trapping  line  over 
the  mountains  to  this  valley.  This,  in- 
deed, was  one  of  the  motives  that  in- 
duced the  building  of  the  camp.  It  pro- 
vided a  sleeping  place  for  him  at  the 
outer  end  of  his  trapping  circuit. 

33 


Personally,  for  many  years,  I  have  not 
engaged  in  the  very  strenuous  sport  of 
trapping.  I  shall,  therefore,  represent 
the  trapper  by  proxy.  When  the  snow 
in  the  forest  is  from  four  to  five  feet 
deep,  one  may  travel  on  snowshoes  over 
the  tops  of  witchhopple  bushes  and  much 
other  underbrush  which  in  summer  im- 
pedes travel.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not 
child's  play  to  drag  a  pair  of  snow  shoes 
fifteen  or  twenty  miles  per  day,  visit  a 
hundred  and  fifty  traps,  rebait  and  reset 
them,  skin  the  caught  animals,  and  carry 
home  the  hides.  All  of  this,  of  course, 
must  often  be  done  when  the  thermom- 
eter is  far  below  zero.  On  so  long  a 
trapping  line  as  this  would  be,  a  comfort- 
able boarding  house  at  the  outer  end  of 
the  loop  was,  for  many  reasons,  very 
desirable. 

One  of  the  frequent  visitors  to  the 
brook  that  ran  through  Muskrat  City 
below  our  hillside  camp,  was  a  mink.  She 
often  caught  small  trout,  from  three  to 
five  inches  long.  Some  of  these  were 

34 


eaten  on  the  spot,  others  were  carried  to 
her  nest  in  a  hole  in  the  bank.  They 
doubtless  were  fed  to  her  family  of  nine 
half  grown  young  minks. 

The  mink  is  a  small  animal,  having  a 
long,  slender  body  and  short  legs.  It 
walks  rather  clumsily,  with  back  arched 
upward,  but  it  can  go  rapidly  and  grace- 
fully in  a  springing,  bounding  movement. 
In  this  manner  it  often  travels  long  dis- 
tances. In  a  farming  section,  mink  will 
rob  the  hen-house,  eating  eggs  and  kill- 
ing young  chickens.  In  the  woods,  mink 
catch  mice,  frogs  and  eat  eggs  of  water 
fowl,  but  they  specialize  on  small  fish. 
In  trapping  mink,  a  piece  of  fish  makes 
good  bait.  A  large  number  of  mink  skins 
are  required  in  making  a  fur  garment  for 
a  human  to  wear,  but  considering  its 
small  size  the  trapper  gets  a  good  price 
for  a  mink  skin. 

On  the  hillside  back  of  our  camp,  on 
occasions,  a  marten  might  be  seen  chas- 
ing a  red  squirrel  over  the  ground,  up 
a  tree  trunk,  through  the  branches,  jump- 

36 


ing  from  one  tree  to  another,  and  gen- 
erally catching  and  eating  the  squirrel. 
We  don't  care  if  he  does.  The  red  squir- 
rel eats  the  eggs  of  the  partridge  and 
our  sympathies  are  with  the  partridge. 

The  marten  is  one  of  the  most  graceful 
and  beautiful  animals  in  our  forests.  It 
has  a  rich  brown  coat  and  lives  in  re- 
mote, inaccessible  parts  of  the  wilderness. 
It  is  more  shy  of  the  human  animal  than 
is  the  mink.  It  is  also  about  three  or 
four  times  the  size  of  mink  and  will 
sometimes  attack  and  kill  a  mink  or  a 
rabbit.  The  marten  will,  when  possible, 
vary  his  diet  by  eating  nuts  and  small 
fruit. 

The  marten  makes  a  nest  of  moss, 
grass  and  leaves,  in  a  hollow  tree  or  log 
or  among  rocks.  They  have  also  been 
found  living  in  a  squirrel's  nest,  doubt- 
less after  killing  the  squirrels.  Bait  your 
trap  for  a  marten  with  a  chipmunk,  a 
wood-rat  or  a  piece  of  meat. 

A  woodchuck  sometimes  ambled 
through  one  of  the  paths  in  the  grass  of 

37 


the  meadow.  A  farmer  would  strenu- 
ously object  to  the  presence  of  a  wood- 
chuck  in  his  meadow,  where  this  animal 
would  destroy  a  surprising  quantity  of 
clover.  In  this  forest  meadow  no  one 
objected,  and  since  the  woodchuck  does 
not  eat  fish  or  flesh  he  was  never  mo- 
lested. His  wife,  however,  must  guard 
her  young,  as  there  are  several  unscrup- 
ulous residents  of  this  forest  who  would 
eat  them  without  the  slightest  compunc- 
tion. 

Another  fellow  prowled  about  our  val- 
ley, though  he  lived  on  the  ridges.  He  is 
larger  than  a  marten  and  is  also  a  hand- 
some animal,  but  of  a  somewhat  different 
type.  He  sometimes  attains  an  extreme 
length  of  three  and  one-half  feet  and 
weighs  eighteen  or  twenty  pounds.  He 
is  known  as  a  "fisher."  Sometimes,  also, 
called  "black-cat"  or  "black-fox."  The 
fisher  is  very  ferocious  and  is  feared  by 
all  animals  not  larger  than  himself.  He 
is  powerful  and  agile;  the  swiftest  and 
most  deadly  of  all  the  smaller  forest  car- 

39 


nivores.  He  will  kill  marten,  mink,  rac- 
coon, muskrat,  rabbit,  and  sometimes  a 
fox.  A  fisher  will  attack  a  porcupine, 
tipping  him  over  and  biting  into  his 
stomach  and  the  underpart  of  the  body, 
where  there  are  no  quills.  Nevertheless, 
fisher,  when  trapped,  are  often  found 
with  porcupine  quills  in  the  skin  and  in 
various  parts  of  the  body. 

The  fisher  catches  trout,  and  gets  larger 
ones  than  would  satisfy  the  mink,  so  he 
is  no  friend  of  ours.  The  fisher  also  is 
charged  with  the  crime  of  following  the 
trail  of  the  trapper  through  the  woods, 
robbing  his  traps  and  eating  the  animals 
caught  in  them.  Bige  vowed  that  he 
"would  get  that  fellow  next  winter,"  and 
he  "would  get  thirty-five  dollars  for  his 
hide."  (Now  it  would  bring  a  much 
larger  sum.)  The  proper  procedure 
would  be  to  set  a  second  and  larger  steel 
trap,  carefully  covered  and  chained  to  a 
tree,  but  without  bait,  in  such  a  position 
that  when  the  fisher  undertakes  his  high- 
handed game  of  robbery  he  will  walk  on 

40 


and  be  himself  caught  in  the  second  trap. 

There  was,  of  course,  our  old  friend, 
the  raccoon.  He  will  find  a  camp  any- 
where, and  if  one  is  not  careful  he  will 
find  the  camp  larder  and  get  away  with 
the  food.  The  coon  has  hands  (fore 
feet)  like  a  monkey,  and  he  can  use 
them  as  skilfully.  The  coon  will  eat  any- 
thing a  human  will  eat,  and  some  other 
things.  He  takes  his  toll  of  frogs  and 
trout,  and  he  does  not  scorn  the  trim- 
mings of  trout  we  dress  for  our  own 
table.  Almost  any  kind  of  bait  will  do 
for  the  coon  trap,  and  a  coon-skin  auto- 
mobile coat  will  do  for  either  man  or 
woman  having  the  price. 

Red  foxes  seldom  were  seen  in  day- 
light at  our  city  camp,  though  at  night 
they  were  often  heard  barking.  The  fox 
is  a  very  interesting  animal  and  whether 
living  in  an  open  farming  country  or  in 
the  deep  forest,  he  is  credited  with  "liv- 
ing by  his  wits."  By  his  acts  he  exhibits 
remarkable  reasoning  powers  and  adapt- 
ability to  conditions  that  arise,  though 

41 


they  may  never  before  have  been  met.  In 
the  woods  his  food  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  marten,  although  he  cannot  climb  a 
tree  to  capture  his  prey.  The  fox  spe- 
cializes on  partridge  and  other  birds  that 
nest  on  the  ground. 

About  a  trap,  the  fox  is  very  foxy. 
Tracks  in  the  snow  show  when  he  has 
visited  one,  and  he  will  usually  succeed  in 
springing  a  trap  without  getting  caught 
in  it.  No  matter  how  carefully  it  may  be 
concealed,  he  can,  and  often  does,  pull  the 
trap  out,  tip  it  over,  spring  it  from  the 
under  side,  then  take  out  the  bait.  Every 
trapper  has  his  pet  method  of  circum- 
venting this  foxy  trick.  The  favorite 
systems  include  the  use  of  a  second  un- 
baited  trap,  which  the  fox  is  expected  to 
step  on  while  he  is  playing  with  the  baited 
trap. 

The  dream  and  hope  of  the  lifetime  of 
every  trapper  is  to  some  day  catch  a 
freak,  black  or  silver  grey  fox ;  the  skin 
of  which  commands  a  fabulous  price. 
Such  a  catch  would  be  like  finding  a  gold 

42 


mine.  Of  course,  if  these  freak  foxes 
were  oftener  caught,  their  fur  would  be 
less  valuable. 

The  fact  that,  notwithstanding  the 
number  of  trout  eaters,  including  our- 
selves, who  lived  or  roamed  in  our  val- 
ley, there  were  still  many  trout  in  the 
streams,  was  to  our  minds  conclusive 
proof  that  there  were  no  otter  in  the 
neighborhood.  An  otter  will  clean  the 
trout  out  of  a  brook  in  a  few  days.  He 
will  eat  many  and  leave  the  rest  dead  on 
the  bank,  then  move  to  another  fishing 
place,  ten  or  fifteen  miles  away.  But 
there  is  no  proof  that  an  otter  might  not 
wander  through  this  valley  some  time  in 
the  winter  when  the  traps  are  set.  The 
otter  is  a  great  traveler;  also,  in  a  fur 
store  he  is  an  aristocrat. 

The  varying  hares,  white  rabbits,  or 
snow-shoe  rabbits,  as  they  are  variously 
designated,  were  plentiful  in  and  near 
Muskrat  City.  They  were  often  seen  in 
the  early  dusk  of  evening,  seldom  in  mid- 
day. They,  in  common  with  many  small 

43 


forest  animals,  are  night  prowlers. 
Doubtless  for  protective  purposes,  Na- 
ture provides  this  animal,  like  the  deer 
and  some  others,  with  the  faculty  of 
changing  the  color  of  its  coat  with  the 
change  of  seasons.  When  the  snow  falls 
in  autumn,  this  breed  of  rabbit  molts  its 
brown  summer  fur  and  takes  on  a  new 
coat  as  white  as  the  snow  itself.  Again, 
when  the  snow  melts  and  disappears  in 
spring  the  varying  hare  sheds  its  white 
fur  and  acquires  a  new  coat  of  brown 
for  summer  wear.  The  hind  feet  of  this 
animal  are  exceptionally  large,  especially 
in  winter  when  the  long  spreading  toes 
are  entirely  covered  with  still  longer  fur, 
thus  forming  broad  snow-shoe  shaped 
pads  which  enable  their  owner  to  freely 
move  about  on  deep  soft  snow.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  the  tracks  left  in  the 
snow  by  this  animal  show  the  large 
spreading  prints  of  the  two  hind  feet, 
placed  ahead  of  the  smaller  imprints  of 
the  fore  feet,  which  at  the  end  of  a  lope 
always  bring  up  in  the  rear. 
44' 


When  startled,  this  rabbit  has  the  habit 
of  rapidly  thumping  on  the  ground  with 
its  hind  feet,  making  a  dull  drumming 
sound  which  may  be  heard  for  a  consid- 
erable distance.  This  thumping  also  is 
said  to  be  a  signal  employed  during  the 
mating  season. 

Several  years  ago  I  witnessed  a  fight 
between  one  of  these  rabbits  and  a  do- 
mestic cat.  The  rabbit  was  a  captive,  en- 
closed by  a  tight  fence  in  a  pen  about  six- 
teen feet  square,  in  one  corner  of  which 
was  a  covered  nest  containing  seven 
young  rabbits.  The  cat  had  climbed  into 
the  pen  and  was  trying  to  steal  a  baby 
rabbit,  when  the  mother  jumped  on  the 
cat's  back  and  beat  a  rapid  tatoo  thereon 
with  its  hind  feet,  and  doubtless  with  toe 
nails  extended,  as  the  air  was  filled  with 
flying  fur.  The  cat  escaped  over  the 
fence,  but  for  many  days  it  went  about 
with  a  sore  back,  unprotected  by  its  nor- 
mal coating  of  fur. 

The  snow-shoe  rabbit  is  generally  de- 
fenseless against  its  many  forest  enemies, 

45 


and  falls  an  easy  victim  to  the  trapper. 
It  is  a  strict  vegetarian  in  diet,  and  in  its 
forest  home  does  no  harm  to  man  or  other 
animal. 

The  muskrats,  who  owned  the  city, 
however,  were  most  in  evidence.  They 
held  the  center  of  the  forest  stage,  and 
always  secured  the  most  attention.  Per- 
haps this  was  because  there  were  more  of 
them  in  our  valley  than  there  were  of  any 
other  animal.  Possibly  because  the  musk- 
rat  is  the  most  numerous  of  any  fur-bear- 
ing animal  in  North  America.  It  is  re- 
ported that  in  1914  ten  million  American 
muskrat  skins  were  sold  in  London.  Of 
course,  during  the  same  year  other  mil- 
lions were  sold  in  the  fur  markets  in  vari- 
ous cities  in  the  United  States. 

The  muskrat  has  a  compact  body  about 
twelve  inches  long  from  nose  to  root  of 
tail.  The  tail  is  long,  naked  and  scaly, 
slightly  flattened  vertically.  It  is  used  as 
a  rudder  in  the  water.  The  hind  feet 
have  short  webs  and  are  otherwise 
adapted  for  swimming.  Its  fur  is  fine 

46 


1 


•d 
rt 


I 


and  dense,  interspersed  with  long,  coarse 
hairs.  Its  color  is  dark  umber  brown, 
except  on  the  stomach,  which  is  grey.  It 
has  a  musky  odor  due  to  secretions  of  a , 
large  gland.  The  muskrat  is  very  pro- 
lific, usually  having  several  litters  of 
young  in  a  season,  totaling  often  as  many 
as  eighteen  during  a  summer. 

Muskrats  feed  on  roots  and  stems  of 
succulent  water  plants  and  other  vege- 
tables, varied  with  an  occasional  frog, 
fish,  or  fresh-water  clam.  A  muskrat 
who  lives  near  our  cottage  has  the  habit 
of  opening  clams  and  leaving  the  shells 
on  our  dock  every  night.  The  shells  we 
are  obliged  to  sweep  off  in  the  morning. 
"Musky"  builds  on  the  marsh,  in  the 
edge  of  a  pond  or  near  a  stream,  a  curi- 
ous cone-shaped  house  or  lodge.  He 
stores  up  roots  and  grasses  for  winter 
use,  frequently  building  these  in  with 
mud  into  the  walls  of  his  house.  Then 
in  case  of  shortage  of  other  food,  he 
eats  his  house. 

Bachelor  or  unmated  muskrats  some- 

48 


times  dig  holes  in  the  bank  of  pond  or 
stream,  making  the  entrance  under  or 
near  the  water.  Also,  they  sometimes 
build  nests  in  tangled  grass  or  a  brush 
pile. 

A  muskrat  skin  brings  to  the  trapper  a 
smaller  return  in  unit  value  than  any 
other  fur-bearing  animal  he  captures. 
But  he  gets  more  of  them,  so  if  market 
conditions  are  favorable  the  total  revenue 
from  his  catch  is  likely  to  be  satisfactory. 
In  the  manufacture  of  fur  garments, 
however,  the  humble  muskrat  holds  an 
important  place.  In  a  fur  factory,  by  the 
skilful  use  of  tweezers  for  pulling  out 
the  coarse  grey  hairs,  by  the  use  of  clip- 
ping and  singeing  machines,  with  the  aid 
of  dyes  ("made  in  Germany")  of  vari- 
ous colors,  his  skin  is  effectually  dis- 
guised and  it  emerges  therefrom  not  only 
in  larger  numbers  than  the  skins  of  any 
other  four-footed  beast,  but  completely 
transformed  in  appearance,  and  masquer- 
ading under  more  different  aliases  than 

19 


are  permitted  to  all  the  other  fur  ani- 
mals combined. 

For  example,  the  former  resident  of 
Muskrat  City  might  appear  in  the  show- 
room of  the  fur  dealer  as  "river  mink," 
"mountain  marten,"  "valley  sable," 
"spruce  beaver,"  "brook  fisher,"  "domes- 
tic raccoon,"  "hillside  fox,"  "fresh-water 
otter,"  "Hudson  seal,"  etc.,  etc.  Also, 
sometimes  he  does  good  service  under 
plain  "muskrat." 

During  many  seasons  since  our  first 
visit  trappers  have  taken  from  their  backs 
the  coats  of  many  residents  of  Muskrat 
City.  These  have  been  transformed  and 
now,  in  cold  weather  and  in  hot  weather, 
cover  the  backs  of  women  in  other  cities. 
Also,  their  four-footed  neighbors  have 
captured  and  eaten  many  muskrats ;  nev- 
ertheless, the  colony  seems  to  be  just  as 
numerous  as  when  we  first  knew  it. 

The  snows  of  twenty  winters  have  fall- 
en in  the  forest  since  Bige  and  I  put 
Muskrat  City  on  the  map,  and  since  we 
built  the  camp  on  the  hillside  above  it. 

50 


Other  trappers  have  followed  Bige's  trail 
through  the  woods  and  have  taken  their 
toll  of  the  inhabitants.  But  I  am  confi- 
dent that  if  a  census  were  taken  today,  it 
would  be  found  that  in  population  Musk- 
rat  City  is  holding  its  own  quite  equal  to 
some  of  the  cities  in  Iowa. 

Doubtless  it  is  a  wise  provision  of  Na- 
ture that  those  animals,  birds  and  fishes 
which  are  most  killed  and  eaten  by  others 
are  made  most  prolific.  Such  thinning  of 
their  ranks  may  be  necessary  to  avert 
famine,  disease  or  some  worse  disaster 
among  them.  In  view  of  their  many  pred- 
atory enemies,  not  forgetting  the  human 
killer  of  fish,  it  is  marvelous  that  any 
trout  of  legal  size  are  found  in  a  brook. 

Noises  of  the  forest  night  are  always 
interesting.  While  the  camp  fire  burns, 
the  forest  people  in  its  immediate  vicinity 
are  generally  quiet.  The  fire  is  an  un- 
usual experience  for  them.  It  attracts 
them.  They  are  fascinated  by  it,  as  are 
small  boys  by  a  circus,  and  while  it  burns 
they  are  likely  to  suspend  their  usual  oc- 

51 


cupations  and  watch  the  flare  and  flicker 
of  the  blaze  and  the  wierd  shadows  it 
casts.  Many  of  the  less  timid  may  ap- 
proach quite  near,  others  more  wary  will 
circle  quietly  and  cautiously  about  at  a 
considerable  distance  but  always  in  view 
of  the  fire.  If  there  should  happen  to  be 
a  light  fall  of  snow  on  the  ground  the 
tracks  visible  in  the  snow  in  the  morning 
will  disclose  the  names  of  the  visitors  at 
the  camp  fire. 

Later  at  night,  however,  when  the  fire 
has  died  down,  and  is  no  longer  visible, 
one's  forest  neighbors  will  resume  their 
usual  occupations,  and  the  wakeful  camp- 
er may  listen  to  the  patter  of  hurrying 
footsteps,  to  the  scratch  of  toe-nails  on 
bark  as  a  climber  goes  up  or  down  a  tree 
trunk,  to  the  sniff  of  the  inquisitive  fel- 
low who  smells  about  the  camp,  to  the 
chatter  of  the  chap  who  talks  to  himself, 
to  the  loping  or  jumping  noises,  to  the 
splashes  in  the  brook,  to  the  last  despair- 
ing cry  of  some  small  animal  as  his  life 
is  being  crushed  out  by  his  captor.  A 

52 


deer,  softly  stepping  along  his  beaten 
path  which  leads  down  the  valley  to  a 
pond  where  he  goes  every  night  for  drink, 
for  water  plants,  or  just  to  wallow,  may 
encounter  a  breeze  bringing  to  his  nos- 
trils the  human  scent.  He  then  will  blow 
his  bugle  blast,  which  can  be  heard  a 
mile.  In  such  case  the  wakeful  camper 
is  never  in  doubt  as  to  who  spoke.  The 
same  is  true  when  the  owl  booms  out 
across  the  valley  his  eternal  question, 
"Who?"  No  other  bird  or  beast  ever 
speaks  in  the  same  tone  of  voice.  But 
most  of  the  smaller  noises  of  the  forerst 
night  are  subjects  for  speculation.  One 
always  instinctively  tries  to  analyze  and 
allocate  each  noise  to  its  author.  In  this 
game  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  habits 
of  forest  residents  is  useful,  so  that,  at 
the  camp  breakfast  in  the  morning,  one 
may  confidently  assert  that  so  and  so  vis- 
ited the  camp  last  night! 

When,  as  sometimes  happened,  both 
Bige  and  I  were  wakeful  at  the  same 
time,  the  breakfast  hour  was  made  inter- 

53 


esting  by  differing  opinions,  and  discus- 
sions over  the  habits  and  identity  of  our 
noisy  neighbors.  There  are,  of  course, 
many  birds  and  a  few  animals  who  sleep 
at  night,  and  are  met  with  only  in  the 
daytime.  These  were  not  considered  in 
our  discussions. 

One  night  at  Muskrat  City,  both  Bige 
and  I  were  suddenly  awakened  by  most 
unusual  sounds  coming  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  hillside  across  the  valley.  Bige 
sprang  up  to  a  sitting  posture,  exclaim- 
ing, "Sufferin'  Cats !  Did  you  hear  that 
noise  ?"  I  did ;  and  expressed  the  opinion 
that  "the  suffering  of  the  cats  was  acute/' 
Immediately,  the  sounds  were  repeated, 
if  possible  louder  than  before.  It  would 
be  difficult  accurately  to  describe  those 
sounds.  We  were  reminded  of  disputes 
we  had  heard,  in  the  back  yard,  between 
two  Thomas  cats,  whose  wordy  argu- 
ments over  their  respective  claims  to 
"Mariah"  often  ended  in  scratching  and 
hair-pulling.  I,  however,  never  met  any 
torn  cat  who  could  produce  one-tenth  of 

54 


the  volume  of  noise  that  came  across  that 
valley. 

There  were  two  voices,  one  a  little 
higher  pitched  than  the  other,  and  both 
talked  at  once.  Beginning  in  a  low-toned 
complaining  wail  like  the  last  despairing 
cry  of  a  lost  soul  entering  perdition,  re- 
marks would  follow  each  other  in  cres- 
cendo volume,  and  in  ever  increasing 
rapidity,  epithets  would  be  fired  by  the 
contestants  until  the  snarling,  sarcastic 
statements  were  fairly  spat  out,  ending 
in  shrieks  that  could  be  heard  miles. 
After  an  interval  of  a  few  seconds  dur- 
ing which  the  disputants  seemed  to  have 
changed  their  positions,  the  argument 
was  renewed,  proceeding  as  before  ex- 
cept that  with  each  repetition  the  anger 
and  violence  of  the  scrappers  increased. 
At  the  height  of  one  of  these  tirades  there 
was  heard  the  scratching  and  tearing  of 
toe-nails  on  bark  as  one  wordy  fighter 
seemed  to  chase  the  other  up  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  and  through  the  branches.  This 
was  quickly  followed  by  two  thuds  as  of 

55 


one  heavy  body  after  another  striking  the 
ground,  then  the  breaking  of  sticks,  the 
rustle  of  leaves  and  brush  as  the  two  ani- 
mals raced  up  the  steep  hillside.  The  race 
was  punctuated  by  snarling,  snapping 
sounds,  which  died  away  in  the  distance 
as  the  language  fighters  passed  over  the 
ridge  until  the  sounds  finally  became  in- 
audible. It  was  a  dark  night,  and  at  no 
time  did  we  get  a  glimpse,  even  indis- 
tinctly, of  the  scrappers.  We  are  still 
speculating  and  wondering  who  or  what 
they  were. 

This  story  has  been  told  to  many  hunt- 
ers and  trappers  familiar  with  Adiron- 
dack forests.  Opinions  have  been  sought 
as  to  the  probable  identity  of  these  bel- 
ligerent animals.  So  far,  no  plausible  or 
reasonable  suggestion  has  been  made. 
Some  of  the  old-timers  say  the  tale  re- 
minds them  of  experiences  of  fifty  or 
sixty  years  ago,  when  the  bay-lynx,  bob- 
cat or  wild-cat  made  these  woods  and 
mountains  their  home  and  hunting 
ground;  but  they  have  been  exterminated. 

56 


None  of  these  cats  have  been  seen  for 
more  than  a  generation. 

Neither  Bige  nor  I  are  acquainted  with 
any  animal  capable  of  making  the  par- 
ticular kind  of  noise  we  heard  that  night 
at  Muskrat  City.  Our  suggestion  is,  that 
possibly  the  wild-cats  have  come  back. 

One  winter  an  unusual  number  of  snow 
storms  occurred,  following  each  other  in 
rapid  succession  until  there  was  an  accu- 
mulation of  snow  over  five  feet  deep 
throughout  the  forest  and  on  the  roof  of 
our  camp  at  Muskrat  City.  This  was 
followed  by  rain  and  freezing  weather, 
turning  the  snow  into  ice.  The  great 
weight  of  ice  and  snow  proved  too  heavy 
for  the  roof  and  it  was  broken  down. 
In  the  following  spring  a  large  maple 
tree  fell  across  the  camp  and  crushed  it 
into  a  tangled,  shapeless  wreck.  Our  log 
camp  at  Muskrat  City  has  disappeared, 
but  as  a  memory  it  shall  remain  forever ! 


57 


r 


